A/N: Surprise! I told you I was working on faster updates!

I'm going to let you jump straight into the chapter, but first I just want to say that I now have a blog specifically for my fanfiction, the link can be found in my profile. It'll have some bonus material like fashions and recipes and playlists and fanart and things, as well as some other fanfic recommendations. It's just set up so I can do something with all the things I saved while researching and show some cool stuff people have been nice enough to make me. So if you're interested in some of those things, please check it out, maybe give it a follow. Thanks!

And a quick credit: Lyrics are for This Is The Night by the Weird Sisters. They were written by Jarvis Cocker.

Aaaand straight in we go! Enjoy, and please remember to review!

Three Months Later

Ginevra Weasley –

As a fan, I'm sure you're aware that the Holyhead Harpies haven't done as well as they should have in previous seasons. Our Chaser Valmai Morgan has been distracted lately, and that distraction is predicted to worsen as she's just given birth to twins.

The plan is to hold public tryouts, but then word came to me that you might be interested in the position. You had an excellent record while at Hogwarts, and if the stories are true, you definitely have the right temperament for us.

If interested, please report at the enclosed address at two PM this Saturday.

Gwenog Jones

Ginny had opened the mystery envelope at the front door, and the moment she read the signature she collapsed to the floor and stared at the paper with wide, almost unbelieving eyes. She reread it again and again, and then ran her fingers over the signature.

Gwenog Jones. Gwenog Jones. Gwenog Jones had written her! Gwenog Jones had sent her a personal invitation to try out for the Holyhead Harpies! Was this really happening? Could the hero of her childhood really have written to her, asking her to try out for her dream job?

And the letter couldn't have come at a better time. Ginny was feeling lost and without direction since she'd never found a way to pursue her dream of playing Quidditch professionally. She spent some time working in George's shop, some time working at the Leaky Cauldron, some time giving interviews to reporters about the war just to make ends meet (though she would never talk about Harry), but nothing was lasting. She tried writing a few articles for the Quibbler which were well-received, about Quidditch and the way it affected every day life, and a bit on the history of the sport, but she was no professional journalist. She needed more experience before she could hope to write as a full-time job, and she hadn't quite given up her Quidditch-playing hopes yet. To top things off, her loneliness and longing for someone to share her life with had intensified, and she was left filling a constant ache of loneliness and sadness in her chest. She had nearly given up hope for any of her plans coming true.

But now this letter had arrived! Her career plan, at least, was looking plausible. Ginny hopped up from the floor and ran across the room to knock at Luna's door. She listened to the Weird Sisters playing on the other side of it as she waited for Luna to answer.

Your voice keeps haunting me

I cannot eat or sleep

I'm going crazy in this hazy fantasy

You put a spell on me

"Yes, Ginny?" came Luna's soft voice as she opened the door. She looked tired, and peeking into the room, Ginny could see why. The Muggle telephone sat on her bed. She had stayed up all night chatting again, though with Neville or Rolf Ginny didn't know. Luna had taken to talking to both of them on the telephone lately, since it was quicker than sending letters and less conspicuous than communication by fireplace. How she had convinced them both to get telephones was a mystery likely never meant to be solved.

So take your hands off me

Tonight I'm breaking free

In response to Luna, Ginny just held the letter in front of her face, the words facing out so that Luna could read them. The redhead was satisfied when her friend gave the appropriate 'oh!' of excitement.

"That's wonderful, Ginny," she said, her smile bright as Ginny clutched the letter to her chest. "You're going, of course?"

Ginny nodded enthusiastically. "Of course!"

"Things are finally looking up," said Luna, still smiling.

Ginny smiled. "Yes. They finally are."

Ginny arrived at the lush green field in Scotland at 1:30 PM, half an hour early. She'd brought a book – definitely not a Dante Wickham novel – as she expected to wait the full half hour or more for the team to arrive, but she was surprised to find the team flying around on top-of-the-line broomsticks.

Happily, Ginny watched the team from the ground as she waited for them to notice her. It didn't take very long: Ginny's red hair was distinctive, even from the skies. The team landed, and a tall, broad-shouldered woman with the darkest eyes Ginny had ever seen greeted her.

"Ginevra, yeah?" she asked, her voice pretty but a bit rough.

Star-struck by her childhood hero Gwenog, Ginny found herself only nodding enthusiastically, though her mind tried to process what was wrong in that action.

"Great. I'm Gwenog Jones, this is our Keeper Aneira, our Chasers Fioled and Irwin, our other Beater Merged, and Tegan, our Seeker," she introduced the team, pointing at each girl as she stated their name. "We're going to do things a bit differently-"

"Just Ginny."

Gwenog looked at Ginny as though she'd just said her first born was a Chinese Fireball. "What did you just say?"

Ginny balked, realizing that her mouth had been too slow. "I – uh, it's just Ginny. Not Ginevra. I prefer to go by just Ginny."

"Okay," Gwenog smirked. "You ready, Just Ginny?"

Ginny nodded, holding her Firebolt up to show she had come prepared. It was actually Harry's Firebolt, recovered by some Harry Potter fan or other and sent to her after Harry's death, by care of her mother. It had marks where his hands had gripped the handle.

She remembered to unbutton and pull off her oversize grey knit jumper – courtesy of her mother – and tighten her high ponytail, which served to keep her hair out of her face. Ginny had been forced to wear Muggle clothing in order to avoid unwanted attention, but today was not a day for high fashion: She wore only dark sweatpants, a grey sweatshirt and lime green running shoes. The hope was that the simple, tight-fit clothing would give her advantage over the baggier Quidditch robes.

Now that she felt honestly ready, she nodded again.

"Good," grinned Gwenog wickedly. "Let's do this!"

It was difficult for Ginny not to collapse on the ground, face first.

This had been the most difficult day of her life, physically. The try outs had been even more of a workout than the war had been, though it felt quite a bit like a war. Instead of the regular version of Quidditch, it had been her versus all the Holyhead Harpies. Gwenog and Merged played Chaser positions with Fioled and Irwin, and Tegan played as a second Keeper. This made things more difficult, particularly because the Beaters played rather roughly. But then, the whole team was infamous for not playing nice – that was one of Ginny's favorite things about them.

The goal was for Ginny to make as many points as possible, all on her own. She'd expected to get none, or ten if she was very lucky. She got seventy. When Gwenog called time, everyone headed to the ground.

Ginny was sure she was covered with bruises, and was very grateful they hadn't forced her to play with Bludgers.

"Great job!" exclaimed Gwenog, headed over with a smile that was a little too big for her face.

Ginny felt a little bitter towards her old hero as a spot between her ribs ached from Gwenog's elbow, but she still smiled with relief. "Thanks," she said brightly, hoping that doing 'great' was good enough.

"What do you guys think?" asked Gwenog, looking over her shoulder at the rest of the team. Each girl gave a hearty cheer, and Gwenog shrugged and looked back at Ginny. "Guess that means you have a new job."

"Really?" asked Ginny, her voice a few pitches too high.

Gwenog laughed. "Yeah! Most girls can only get four on us, if that. I'd be stupid to waste my time looking for anyone else. Plus, that ram you gave me halfway through was Harpy-worthy." Gwenog pulled out her wand and summoned a business card. "That's my card. Call me during the week and I'll go over the legal papers with you."

"Great!" said Ginny, taking the card and looking down at the name GWENOG JONES in black typeface. "Thank you so much. You won't be disappointed."

"I'm sure I won't," laughed Gwenog. "I'm just glad Wickham wrote me about you, or I'd have wasted a bunch of time on other girls."

Ginny felt her blood turn cold, and the flush from the exercise and happiness disappeared from her face. "I'm sorry, did you say W-Wickham?"

"Yeah," said Gwenog, beginning to pack up the supplies. "I met him at one of his signings. He wrote me later, saying he heard Valmai was leaving the team and he knew just the girl to replace her. It's pretty cool that you know him. He's one of my favorite authors. Well, more like my only favorite author."

"He's not one of mine," growled Ginny. "He told you to write me?"

"No one tells me what to do," said Gwenog a little roughly. "He suggested it. I took the suggestion. Is that a problem?"

"No, not at all," said Ginny. She turned to pick up her sweater and added under her breath, "Not for you."

Ginny pounded on the door of flat 312. "Tom Riddle! Tom Riddle, you open this door right this minute!" she screamed, slamming her fist against the door repeatedly. "Tom! I'll walk in myself if you don't hurry up, Tom Rid-"

The door swung open, and Ginny narrowly avoided punching Tom in the face. He ducked out of the way of her fist as it swung forward, expecting to hit the door just before it opened.

"Ginevra!" Tom hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her inside. He looked around the corridor to be certain no one was about, then closed the door and spun to look at her. "Do you mind keeping the 'Tom Riddle' down to a minimum? I'm trying my best to avoid everyone finding out who I really am, and you just stand at my door shouting my name!"

Ginny bristled. "You don't get to be angry right now. I'm angry!"

"What on earth are you angry about this time?" asked Tom, sounding genuinely confused, even as he seemed amused by her state of dress and her tangled hair.

Ginny swatted his chest. "Don't act innocent, Tom Riddle! You know what you did!"

Tom sighed heavily. "Please stop shouting my name…" he muttered, and stepped around Ginevra to walk towards the kitchen.

"Where are you going?" Ginny demanded, following him.

A familiar silver tray sat on the counter, filling Ginny's chest with an echo of panic. She took a deep, sudden breath as she recognized it from the shack so long ago. It was filled with white porcelain teaware with a single dark blue ring around the top, the scent of some sort of spicy tea rising up into the air. Tom opened a cupboard and placed a second cup and saucer on the tray beside the plate of lavender shortbread biscuits. Tom lifted the tray and used it to motion towards his sitting room. "Take a seat, Ginevra. I was about to have tea," he explained. "You can tell me all about what I've done wrong over a cup of tea and a biscuit."

Ginny meant to object, but she was momentarily stunned by Tom's actions. Wordlessly, she followed him to the sitting area and took a seat in a chair while he took a place on the sofa, and placed the tray on the coffee table between them. He poured tea into each cup, adding a little cream to hers, and then picked up the porcelain cup and took a sip before stating, "Now that we are settled in, you may feel free to rage at me for whatever it is I've done."

Ginny did not touch her teacup. Instead, she unblinkingly stared Tom Riddle down as he seemed not to notice. "You know what you've done," she insisted, fuming.

Tom lowered the cup from his pale lips. "No, I do not. Please enlighten me."

Exasperated, Ginny threw her hands up in the air. "You wrote to Gwenog Jones and told her to hire me!"

"Ah." Tom placed the cup back on it's saucer and crossed his legs. "My letter to Miss Jones, that's what this is about?"

"Yes!"

"That is what you are upset about?"

"Yes!"

One of Tom's eyebrows raised, and a strange mix of confusion and smugness crossed his face. "In Merlin's name, why?"

"You shouldn't have gotten involved!" shouted Ginny, her voice higher pitched than usual. "I'm a perfectly capable Quidditch player – a great one in fact – and I didn't need your help! Especially after I came her personally and insisted that you leave me alone. I thought I made it perfectly clear and I didn't want you in my life."

"I was not in your life when I sent that letter, I was in Gwenog Jones's life. I heard about her need for a talented Quidditch player, and I provided one," said Tom, his voice low and gentle in comparison to Ginny's loud upset.

"She was going to hold try-outs, I could have just-"

"Are you angry because you didn't make it onto the team?" asked Tom, his voice skeptical. "I find it hard to believe you would fail in this, but I suppose-"

"No, I made it," said Ginny quickly, a little offended that he'd thought she had screwed up this chance. "That isn't the point."

Tom placed his folded hands on his knee. "Then your point is…?"

Ginny's eyes widened. How could he not understand this yet? "My point is that I want you to leave me alone. Stop interfering! I didn't need your help to get that job, I could have gotten it on my own. You didn't need to get involved!"

Leaning forward to pick up his cup, Tom said, "You do know how every one of those players got on the team?"

Ginny's brows scrunched together as an expression of confusion came over Ginny's face. "What are you talking about?"

"No one in the professional league got there on talent alone," explained Tom, before taking another sip of his tea. "Every single person got on a team due to their connection. Surely you aren't so naïve as to believe otherwise?"

Stammering, Ginny said, "Well – of course not – but I-"

"I only gave you the connection you needed," Tom said. "Your skill did the rest. Is that really so objectionable? Who else would be your way in? Also, Gwenog Jones is not one to be ordered around. I only recommended you."

"I-" Ginny began, but she stopped as she felt her anger seeping away. She wanted to be livid, but her excuse was pulled out from under her. Tom was absolutely right: the Quidditch league was too political for anyone to get in on only their talent. She needed a foot in the door, someone to be her way in; this was partially why she hadn't tried out before.

Tom had provided her just the connection she needed. She just hoped it was the last time she would have to deal with him.

"Fine," she sighed, standing. "You're right. I needed a connection. I just need to know it's the last time I'll have to deal with you."

"You wouldn't have had to 'deal with me' at all," said Tom, standing, "If you hadn't come to my flat to scream at me."

Ginny swallowed, and nodded as she folded her arms across her chest. "Okay. Fine. Don't worry – I won't show up here again." Ginny began for the door.

"I was never worried about that," said Tom softly.

Ginny didn't turn back to respond. She walked straight for the door, placed her hand on the knob – and paused. She bit her lip and tilted her head as she felt a pulling nag in her chest.

She hated to admit it, but Tom had actually done her a favor. Something good. And though she wanted nothing more than to storm out of the room, she felt the need to be at least a little grateful for his part in making her dreams come true. And then she could return to ignoring his existence.

So, Ginny turned, and her breath caught in her throat. She was face-to-face with Tom, his only inches away from hers. She felt her heart pound in her chest as he reached his arm around her waist. Her eyes widened, and she watched as his pupils dilated. Her hands clenched into fists, though just why she wasn't sure. Perhaps she was controlling an urge to smack him.

Tom was almost holding her for a second before he spoke. "I must admit…it is quite difficult not to kiss you in this moment."

She opened her mouth to object, but she heard the click of the door opening behind her. Ginny turned her head and realized that Tom had been standing so closely and reached around her in order to open the door for her. She turned her head back to Tom, who stood there smiling gently, his eyes dark with emotion as he examined her face. A familiar warmth filled her chest and spread to her cheeks, and again something electric seems to pass through them both. She could feel the energy coming from his body, and something similar made her body tingle. They both gazed at each other, into each other, and it felt as through something heated had wrapped around them both, tying them together.

And Ginny felt some crack deep inside her shatter.

One of her hands went to the door, her palm flat on the surface of it as she slammed it shut. Ginny hopped up, wrapping her arms around Tom's neck, and her mouth found his suddenly. The electric energy filled them both, and Tom's arms went around her waist and he supported her weight as she stood on her toes so she could wrap her arms around his neck further.

Her chest pressed against his as she pressed her lips against Tom's. His soft mouth pressed back, firmly but not roughly, gently but not timidly. They stood in this position unmoving until Ginny began to feel dizzy. Tom pulled away just enough for her to remember that she needed to breathe, and they both took deep breaths before Tom lowered his head and kissed her again, both of their eyes closing.

His earlier kisses had been calculated and unwanted; this kiss was less purposefully, skillfully seductive and more passionate and clumsy. His mouth moved against hers, kissing her top lip and then her bottom. The center of his bottom lip pressed against the line of hers, her cupid's bow pressing against the center of his mouth. And with each meeting of flesh she could almost feel his passion for her, the desire that burned below the surface but also the adoration in each gentle touch, which had lived in each look. It was the feeling of adoration that left her addicted to his mouth.

Eventually he took one step back, and she took two forward. Her movement forced him to move further back, and slowly Ginny tiptoed her way to the couch, bringing Tom with her. They collapsed on it, their lips still locked, only pulling apart long enough to gasp for breath.

No longer needing to reach for his mouth, Ginny put her feet on the couch as Tom lay beside her, one leg on the couch and the other on the floor, giving him stable footing. Her hands ran down his chest to wrap around his middle and push her body up into his, trying to feel the deep emotion the filled him with every inch of her body. The long, pale fingers of his right hand tangled themselves into her red hair, and the fingertips of his left traced the apple of her cheek in slow circles before caressing their way back down to her waist. She felt the tug of her hair tie and leaned upward further so Tom could pull it out, and then let him twist the soft strands around his fingers.

Ginny opened her mouth and deepened the kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth that tasted of spice from the tea he'd been drinking. She felt movement across her chest and stomach but didn't realize it was Tom unbuttoning her jumper until he pulled away to slip it off of her. She grabbed his head and pulled his mouth back to his, and his hands went to her face first, holding it for a few moments before moving down across her shoulders and up her arms, taking one of her hands in each of his. He took them from his head to give him the freedom to take his mouth away from hers and instead place soft kisses along the side of her neck. They were like little whispers of seduction and Ginny felt herself moan rather than making a conscious decision to do so. She ran her fingers through his thick hair as her body seemed to pulse with some primal beat.

Tom's kisses traced her collarbone and Ginny gasped with pleasure before insisting that his mouth come back to meet hers. This kiss was more heated and passionate than their previous ones had been, the desire spilling out with very little control. Their mouths and tongues moved together and her hands moved around his chest again, and his explored the sides of her body, her stomach, her waist. He spent quite some time on her hips, his hands moving back and forth over the hip bone. Then one hand moved down to her full thigh, stroking the side of it, further exploring her body and memorizing the way it felt under his touch.

Ginny pressed against Tom's mouth and body with more and more urgency, a fervor filling her mind, blinding her with want. She needed more, the adoration and longing she felt in his lips no longer enough for her craving. Each touch wasn't enough for her, starved as she was for warmth and affection. The sensation of being adored and wanted she felt with each of Tom's kisses and touches filled the hole in her chest that was caused by her intense loneliness, and she had to have more of Tom to cure herself of the loneliness.

She kissed him harder, and Tom returned the kiss as a hand went back to her waist, caressing her there before slipping just under her shirt, only enough to touch the smooth skin just above her waist. His fingers were cool against her warm skin, and the sensation felt so good she couldn't resist another soft, little moan.

The sound of her voice sparked something in Tom, and he moved from his position half-off, half-on the couch to lie on top of her, one leg on either side of hers to support his weight as he kissed her fiercely, in each movement trying to communicate all he craved from her and all her wanted to give her, emotionally and physically.

But this movement snapped Ginny back to reality.

Horrified, Ginny pushed Tom away with a gasp, and she crawled from under him and stood. She ran as quickly as she could for the door to his flat, and she swung it open without bothering to close it or turn when she heard Tom call her name.

It was a quickly darkening twilight outside, and Ginny walked speedily across the pavement, her arms folded tightly across her chest, her shoulder shaking.

She felt disgusting. She felt desperate and disgusting and sick. She had not only given in to Tom after the many years she had fought against him, but worse, so much worse, she had initiated the whole thing. She shook and felt cold, perhaps going into shock. She had never meant for any of that to happen. She had only ever wanted Tom to leave her be, and now she had let her desperate loneliness take control and she undid all those small victories in the space of a few minutes.

Tom would never leave her alone now. She had finally given him what he wanted, at least partially. Now he would have hope for more. Now he was never give up until she gave in to him.

She didn't love Tom. She didn't even want him. She just wanted to not feel so alone anymore. Her weakness had ruined everything. She felt filthy, she felt damaged, she felt violated, and she had done it to herself. It was all her fault.

"Ginevra!" came a shout behind her, and Ginny sighed.

"Leave me alone, Tom!" she shouted, her voice catching in her throat.

His voice was closer as he said her name again. "Ginevra, please, we have to-"

"We don't have to do anything!" Ginny half screamed, half sobbed. She realized now that the aching loneliness in her chest had combined with her shame to turn the hole into what felt like a fatal wound. Tears streamed down her cheeks freely and her body shook with her cries. She spun to face Tom, who looked stunned by the broken expression in her eyes. "It was a mistake, I didn't – I didn't mean for it to happen, I don't know why it happened, I just want to forget it, okay?"

A tenderness settled in on the edges of his face. "We can't do that, Ginevra. We have to address this, we have to-"

"No, we don't!" spat Ginny, taking a step towards him. She had to take a moment to catch her breath as sobs tore their way through her throat. "We don't have to do anything, there's no requirement saying we have to address anything. It was a mistake, it was temporary insanity, I don't want you, I don't want you anywhere near me!"

Tom took another step forward, looking concerned as he reached out to take her shoulder. "Gin-"

"NO!" Ginny screamed fiercely, stumbling backwards. "No, no, no, no! Don't touch me!" she began to hyperventilate, suddenly feeling incapable of drawing in enough air to catch her breath. "Don't touch me! I ruined it, I ruined everything, I've ruined my life again, just don't touch me!"

Tom held his hands up defensively. "Okay. I'm not going to touch you. Just…just breathe, Ginevra. Breathe slowly. Try to breathe slowly."

Ginny couldn't remember how to breathe slowly. She gasped for breath until her head was spinning so fast she collapsed to her knees, and then leaned forward to press her face against the cool of the cement. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried to scream, but the combination of her shortness of breath and her sobbing made it impossible to make the sound.

Ginny couldn't lift her head to watch Tom as he knelt down beside her and pressed both hands against the pavement in order to resist the urge to hold her shoulders. She couldn't see the tears that built in his grey eyes, nor the expression of guilt and helplessness that flashed only briefly before returning to cool concern.

"I – I – I-" stammered Ginny, trying to form words as panic filled her chest. "I c-can't breathe, I c-can't get a-air. I-I don't know whats happen-ening. Ev-everything i-is wrong, I bro-broke i-it again, I ruin-ruined it all, s-so what else is n-new?"

"You're having a panic attack," explained Tom gently. "You need to focus on your breathing. Stop trying to speak."

Ginny stood still for a moment, but still she couldn't get air in her lungs. "I-I can't! I-I'm going to d-die!"

Slowly, Tom moved forward, and he reached out and took her wrist. Ginny tried to wrench herself from his grasp as her inability to breathe worsened, but Tom refused to let her go. He placed her hand on his chest and said, "Match my breaths. You can do this."

Ginny sobbed again, but she tried to focus on Tom's breathing. First she felt his heart rate slow to a calming beat, and then she could feel and regular, steady breaths he took. She closed her eyes and tried to force out the thoughts of panic and destruction and death and instead know only the rise and fall of Tom's chest. She choked in air when he breathed in, and forced it out when he exhaled. She felt dizzier each time she breathed out, feeling like she was suffocating and that she would pass out, but then it was time to breathe in again.

Eventually, Ginny's heart rate slowed, and breathing became steady, patterned after Tom's. Her head cleared and the feeling of doom lifted. She could think about the situation a little more rationally.

Something had happened between her and Tom, but it didn't have to change things. She could still insist he leave her alone. He owed her that much, and so much more. If his feelings for her were real, he'd respect that. And after what she'd felt while…during…

She felt surer now than she ever had before that Tom was telling the truth: he loved her. And if she asked him to leave her alone…maybe he would listen. She needed to be free of him, once and for all.

She opened her eyes and Tom let her pull her hand away. "Thank you," she muttered, her voice still rough from the sobbing, her cheeks still wet with tears that sparkled under the street lamps. "I couldn't – I didn't-"

"You lost control," Tom filled in for her. "I understand."

She wasn't sure if he was talking about the panic attack or what had happened upstairs.

"This can't happen again," she sighed as she watched Tom get back to his feet. He offered a hand to help her up, which she accepted. "I need you to leave my life, Tom. Please."

Tom hesitated, and then reached into his pocket and pulled some white bit of fabric out. He offered the handkerchief to her. Ginny accepted, wiping her face with a corner of it, the embroidered lace around the edge nearly poking her in the eye once.

She held it out to Tom. "You go around with one of these in your pocket?"

Tom chuckled and shook his head, pushing her hand back towards her in a gesture meant to express that she was to keep it. "No, I don't. I grabbed it on the way out. I thought you might need it."

"Thanks," she said, and began twisting the handkerchief in her hands. "I just – I want to go home, okay? Promise not to see me again, or at least not to try to."

Tom sighed heavily, and sinking his hands deep into the pockets of his trousers. "Goodnight, Ginevra. I am sorry for – for upsetting you."

Ginny shrugged. "It was my fault, more so than yours."

"I knew better than to let it happen. I should have ended it."

Ginny shrugged again. "It doesn't matter now. I just want to forget it happened. Let me go now, okay?"

Tom nodded. "Goodnight." He turned back towards his flat.

"Goodnight, Tom."

Tom looked over his shoulder. "Dante, Ginevra."

Ginny smirked. "Whatever." And she turned to walk to her own flat, feeling the need to feel the night on her skin rather than apparating to get there quicker.

It wasn't until she got home and crawled into bed with Shikoba that she realized that Tom had never promised not to see her again.

Artificial: It's been a very long time since I've written an…erotic?...scene so I hope it didn't come out too terribly awkward. Also the last bit afterward kind of wrote itself? My outline just said she storms out, but I kept going. I hope it all turned out okay. Please leave me a review and let me know what you think! Both positive and negative feedback is extremely important to me, both as a writer and as a person. Every review brightens my day, and with all the things going on in my life right now, anything that can brighten it is practically a miracle. …not that I mean to emotionally manipulate anyone into reviewing! I just mean that I appreciate each and every one, short or long, positive or negative. So please feel free to hit that 'review' button!